towels stood beside the tent pole, and trunks full of costumes and work clothes gaped in the corners. The smell of pachyderms mingled with the odor of canvas and whiskey and the pungent scent of hay.
Rosemary nodded. “This is the only available tent, and that’s because Bobby left. He was William’s assistant.”
She stared at him, her green eyes challenging, daring him to object or to act like the citified fop she perceived him to be. A strong breeze blew, and the smell of elephant droppings nearly choked him. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped back outside, scanning the rows of tents with a critical gaze.
“Where’s yours?”
Rosemary marched down the narrow path to the end, just as he had done last night. There was Carney’s tent, one of the smallest and least obtrusive. He understood all of that now. Rosemary was one of the few women in the circus, and apparently unmarried at that. The implications of that fact struck him with full force, as well as the reason for her shelter’s location. No one could barge into her tent without passing all the others first. That the circusmen had claimed this privilege was something he didn’t doubt.
“Whose is that?” He pointed to another little tent, slightly larger than hers but also well positioned.
“Griggs’s. He’s been with the circus the longest and has certain compensations. He was with my father when he started the troupe.” There was pride in her voice, as well as affection. For some reason, that annoyed him, and he gestured to the tent.
“I’ll take that one. Tell him to move to Bobby’s old bunk.”
“But you can’t! Griggs can’t talk. He…prefers to be alone.”
“So do I,” Michael said smoothly. “You seem to be forgetting that I own this place. I have no desire to bed down with circus folk, particularly next to elephant dung. The only other acceptable tent is yours, yet I understand why you require your own.”
She glared, but there was nothing she could do. Now. “Fine, I will tell him. I’ll have one of the boys move his things. Is there anything else?”
“Yes. I want hot water and clean towels. Who can show me what to do in the act?”
“William,” Rosemary said. “I’ll send for him.”
“Good.” Michael smiled as she marched furiously from the tent, understanding her anger. He’d established himself as the new manager and was just beginning to lay down the law. No one liked to lose, and apparently, Rosemary Carney was no exception.
“Here, just slip into this.” William, who looked remarkably like Dan Rice’s Uncle Sam, even down to the white beard and long legs, proffered a box containing a ridiculous costume of red, white, and blue spangles. There was even a bright red bow tie and a blue sparkling derby to complete the ensemble. Michael stared at the outfit, incredulous.
“Surely you don’t mean for me to wear that?”
William shrugged, blinking through thick white brows. “My assistant always wears this costume. It helps for visibility,” the older man explained.
Michael eyed the garment with disgust. “Well, I won’t wear it. I can’t imagine a grown man parading around in that. Did she put you up to this?”
“Who?” William was growing more puzzled by the moment.
“That jester, Carney! This was her idea, wasn’t it? She thought to make a fool out of me in public!”
“No, Rosemary wouldn’t—”
“The hell she wouldn’t,” Michael said in smug satisfaction. That’s exactly what she’d planned, damned if she didn’t. No one could convince him that the real Bobby had worn this getup in front of a jeering crowd. “You can tell Carney that I will wear my own clothes.” He grinned, imagining her disappointment when that part of her plan failed. “Now, tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“It’s easy,” William said gruffly. “Jake, one of the roustabouts, will be with you and tell you everything you need to know, step by step. Just follow his directions. Any farmboy from the
Rosemary nodded. “This is the only available tent, and that’s because Bobby left. He was William’s assistant.”
She stared at him, her green eyes challenging, daring him to object or to act like the citified fop she perceived him to be. A strong breeze blew, and the smell of elephant droppings nearly choked him. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped back outside, scanning the rows of tents with a critical gaze.
“Where’s yours?”
Rosemary marched down the narrow path to the end, just as he had done last night. There was Carney’s tent, one of the smallest and least obtrusive. He understood all of that now. Rosemary was one of the few women in the circus, and apparently unmarried at that. The implications of that fact struck him with full force, as well as the reason for her shelter’s location. No one could barge into her tent without passing all the others first. That the circusmen had claimed this privilege was something he didn’t doubt.
“Whose is that?” He pointed to another little tent, slightly larger than hers but also well positioned.
“Griggs’s. He’s been with the circus the longest and has certain compensations. He was with my father when he started the troupe.” There was pride in her voice, as well as affection. For some reason, that annoyed him, and he gestured to the tent.
“I’ll take that one. Tell him to move to Bobby’s old bunk.”
“But you can’t! Griggs can’t talk. He…prefers to be alone.”
“So do I,” Michael said smoothly. “You seem to be forgetting that I own this place. I have no desire to bed down with circus folk, particularly next to elephant dung. The only other acceptable tent is yours, yet I understand why you require your own.”
She glared, but there was nothing she could do. Now. “Fine, I will tell him. I’ll have one of the boys move his things. Is there anything else?”
“Yes. I want hot water and clean towels. Who can show me what to do in the act?”
“William,” Rosemary said. “I’ll send for him.”
“Good.” Michael smiled as she marched furiously from the tent, understanding her anger. He’d established himself as the new manager and was just beginning to lay down the law. No one liked to lose, and apparently, Rosemary Carney was no exception.
“Here, just slip into this.” William, who looked remarkably like Dan Rice’s Uncle Sam, even down to the white beard and long legs, proffered a box containing a ridiculous costume of red, white, and blue spangles. There was even a bright red bow tie and a blue sparkling derby to complete the ensemble. Michael stared at the outfit, incredulous.
“Surely you don’t mean for me to wear that?”
William shrugged, blinking through thick white brows. “My assistant always wears this costume. It helps for visibility,” the older man explained.
Michael eyed the garment with disgust. “Well, I won’t wear it. I can’t imagine a grown man parading around in that. Did she put you up to this?”
“Who?” William was growing more puzzled by the moment.
“That jester, Carney! This was her idea, wasn’t it? She thought to make a fool out of me in public!”
“No, Rosemary wouldn’t—”
“The hell she wouldn’t,” Michael said in smug satisfaction. That’s exactly what she’d planned, damned if she didn’t. No one could convince him that the real Bobby had worn this getup in front of a jeering crowd. “You can tell Carney that I will wear my own clothes.” He grinned, imagining her disappointment when that part of her plan failed. “Now, tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“It’s easy,” William said gruffly. “Jake, one of the roustabouts, will be with you and tell you everything you need to know, step by step. Just follow his directions. Any farmboy from the
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